


Second Sight

by Sunfreckle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, But in two chapters so..., F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-29 00:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle
Summary: Éponine is standing outside and leaning on the railing, looking out across the city.Combeferre hesitates, but opens the door, making Éponine look round. “Mind if I join you?” he asks.“It’s your apartment, dude,” she grins.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLordOfLaMancha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Amanda! Without you this magical universe would never have strayed out of the Patron-Minette realm <3
> 
> (Thank you Deb for the quick proofread!)

Combeferre had retreated to his room for only a minute, ten at most, but when he comes back dancing is happening. He’s not quite sure why, but it is. Actually, he does know why, because Grantaire and Courfeyrac are both present. Courfeyrac is forever wanting to fill any space he inhabits with music and when there is music, Grantaire will be moving to it. In this case he is moving to it with a rather clumsy and half-heartedly protesting Enjolras in his arms.

“Lighten up, Ange,” Grantaire chuckles fondly. “Be a little more Apollo and a little less Asclepius.”

“I’m not— R!” Enjolras nearly squeaks and clutches more tightly at Grantaire as his boyfriend pushes him off balance.

Grantaire laughs. “Oops,” he says, voice completely void of remorse and taking the opportunity to pull Enjolras closer.

Combeferre smiles and turns away so he can at least pretend not to see Enjolras’ blushing. That just means he’s looking towards the other corner of the room though, which happens to be where Courfeyrac is dancing with Marius. Or rather, where Marius is trying to avoid having to dance. He’s not going to win this time though, that much is clear, because Cosette has just joined them. Combeferre grins when Courfeyrac shoots him a beaming smile as Cosette lifts Marius’ hand up high so she can twirl underneath it.

It occurs to Combeferre that if Cosette is dancing, her sister Éponine should be too, but she’s nowhere to be seen. He looks around and since he would have heard her pass through the hallway and past his room if she had left, he walks to the glass door that leads to the balcony. Sure enough, Éponine is standing outside and leaning on the railing, looking out across the city.

Combeferre hesitates, but opens the door, making Éponine look round. “Mind if I join you?” he asks.

“It’s your apartment, dude,” she grins.

Fair enough, but Éponine and Cosette are still fairly recent additions to their lives and Combeferre doesn’t like to intrude on people without being sure the intrusion is welcome. He steps outside and gently closes the door behind him.

“Too much magic inside?” Éponine asks pleasantly and Combeferre makes a vague noise.

He has too much control over his second sight for him to be bothered by it in normal situations. Yes, Grantaire is practically glowing by now and Marius always has his magic hanging thickly around him, leaving traces of it clinging to the people he cares about. But Combeferre can tune it out and he does. Still, it’s a good excuse and he doesn’t correct Éponine. He’s more interested in knowing why _she_ came out here, but he doesn’t know her well enough to ask. At least he doesn’t think so. She’s a pretty private person. Combeferre looks at the lights of the city in silence.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Combeferre turns to find Éponine looking at him with much more attentiveness than he was expecting. “Of course.”

Éponine’s expression is serious, but not sombre. “Do you think Courfeyrac would like it if Cosette moved in with them?”

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“ _Genuinely_ like it,” she adds.

“I’m not sure if I’m—” Combeferre begins cautiously, but Éponine interrupts:

“I’m asking you for a reason.” She pulls a face. “I can’t ask Marius, cause he’ll tell Courf. And if Courf finds out I’m asking, he’ll spend the entire conversation trying to find out if _I_ want Cosette to move in with them.”

“Do you?” Combeferre asks.

Éponine glares at him.

“Sorry,” he smiles apologetically. He hums. “I still don’t know if I can answer you though. I think… Courf is _really_ fond of your sister.” Growing fonder every day it seems. Nevertheless he hesitates for a moment and adds: “But he’s pretty used to having Marius to himself.”

Éponine nods. “Thought so.”

“That’s just me guessing though,” Combeferre says cautiously. “And it’s really not for me to say.”

“Not for me to say either,” Éponine says. “I’m just... I’m looking out for my sister.”

Combeferre hums. He doesn’t have any siblings, but he does the same for his friends, he gets it.

There’s a very muffled sound of laughter from inside and they both glance back. Marius is dancing, Cosette on one side, Courfeyrac on his other. Éponine smiles.

“I don’t know how Zette does it,” she says. “I don’t think I could…”

“Not sure if I could either,” Combeferre admits. Courfeyrac’s relationships have always been puzzling to him. To Enjolras too. Courfeyrac doesn’t mind. He knows that they support him either way and that’s enough for him. “It seems like Cosette has a good handle on things though,” Combeferre says.

“She usually does,” Éponine smiles. “But I’m the oldest, I get to be overprotective, okay.”

Combeferre opens his mouth to make a joke about Marius, but thinks the better of it.

Éponine gives him an amused smile. “Why yes, I have chosen wisely whom to let my sister fall in love with, thank you.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Combeferre says, grinning in spite of his embarrassment.

She gives him a friendly shove. “You know that’s how Marius and I met, right?” she says. “Cause of our magic. We just sort of…recognized the protectiveness of it. It felt familiar. Easy.” She laughs. “Nothing like when he and Cosette met.”

Combeferre laughs too. Yes, the mess of Marius’ glorious, fumbling crush on Cosette is a well-documented fact. So was Courfeyrac dashingly coming to the rescue (that’s how he tells the story anyway). But Combeferre has actually never heard the full story as far as _Éponine’s_ friendship with Marius is concerned. Courfeyrac seems rather uncertain about it and that alone was reason enough for Combeferre to decide it was better not to pry.

“I don’t know anything about your magic, actually,” he says honestly. “I never heard that it had something to do with you guys meeting.”

“Oh, I can’t do what Marius does,” Éponine says, much more unconcerned in talking about this than Combeferre had expected. “I do written charms. But protections are my go-to, almost second nature.”

“How do you cast?” Combeferre asks. He’s always curious about people’s methods and he had no idea Éponine was a charm writer. He never would have guessed.

“Give me your hand and I’ll show you,” Éponine says, pulling a pen from the inner pocket of her jacket.

Combeferre spreads his right hand out on the railing in front of her, palm down, and watches how she clicks the pen and puts the tip carefully to his skin. To his surprise she does not write a word or incantation, she draws letters. Big, bold block letters, one placed over the other, until they are little more than a crowded smudge of a monogram.

W A R M

Combeferre’s skin tingles as a pleasant warmth spreads through his fingers, pushing out the evening chill. “You do that effortlessly,” he says, not bothering to hide his admiration.

“Practice,” Éponine hums, but she sounds pleased.

Combeferre flexes his fingers and for a moment he blinks, tapping into his second sight. There’s a soft, reddish glow swirling around his hand, originating from the ink stain on his skin. It’s very gentle magic. Small but effective. He blinks again, rubs his hands together and laughs. “Now the other one feels extra cold.”

Éponine grins. “Tell me what my magic looks like and I might do the other one,” she says, slanting her head.

Combeferre smiles. “Red,” he answers readily. “Like a red glow. A very steady one too.”

“Well, I had lots of practice with this one,” Éponine says, brushing the compliment away. “I use it on Gav all the time. Keep him from burning the place down.”

“Fire starting is a difficult gift to manage,” Combeferre says understandingly. He has never met Éponine’s younger siblings, but he knows quite a bit about Gavroche, if only because Grantaire is so fond of him. So Combeferre knows that Gavroche, full of heat himself, always feels like his surroundings are too cold. And a fire starter that feels cold starts fires, that’s kind of their thing.

“I presume it’s not much use, using this charm on him though,” Combeferre says thoughtfully.

“None at all,” Éponine snorts, beckoning him to give her his other hand. “It helps if I use it on objects in his surroundings though.”

Combeferre is slow in holding out his hand and she impatiently grabs it with her own, pulling it towards her slightly to draw the same charm on his left hand as well. The surprise of it keeps Combeferre silent, but he doesn’t mind. Éponine’s hands are smaller than he expected. Softer too. The warmth of her touch suddenly blurs together with the warmth of magic and Éponine lets go.

“There.”

“Remarkable,” Combeferre smiles, holding up both his hands to see two perfectly identical charms radiating their power steadily. He would have needed so many words to obtain the same effect. Éponine can do it with a few letters. Unthinkingly he lifts his eyes to Éponine’s face. His eyes widen.

“What?” Éponine asks, vibrant indigo’s and purples dancing around her like a young galaxy just sprung to life around her and is clinging to her form.

Combeferre blinks, his second sight retreating hastily and returning the world to normal. He’s about to lie. About to say “Nothing,” like he used to do as a boy. Instead he shakes his head apologetically and says: “My sight slipped, sorry.”

“For what,” Éponine says, remarkably unconcerned. “We were showing off, weren’t we?” She gives him a curious look. “Do I glow red too?”

“No,” Combeferre says, relieved she’s not upset about the invasion of privacy. Some people get extremely suspicious around seers.

“What then?” she coaxes. “Come on, dude, I don’t mind you seeing, but you have to tell me.”

“Very vibrant purple,” Combeferre says. Far too bright for someone that was only doing a simple charm, he neglects to add. He’s dying to ask what the strongest magic is Éponine has ever done. Wild to know what kind of gifts run in her family. But this is probably the first real, one on one conversation he’s ever had with Éponine and he’s not going to overstep. Especially because this has been really nice, almost comfortable.

“I like that,” she nods. “Purple’s a good colour.”

“It is,” Combeferre agrees.

They both lean on the railing again, staring into the distant dark speckled with light.

“Thanks, Ferre,” Éponine hums and Combeferre isn’t sure whether that is for telling her about his sight, for talking about Cosette or for coming out here in the first place. But instead of worrying about it he hums pleasantly and receives a vague, pleased noise in return.

They stand in silence after that, but it’s the good kind of silence. It’s nice. Genuinely comfortable.

It feels like a beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s no surprise to anyone that Combeferre thrives at university, least of all to himself, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys tutoring sessions past five pm. It’s way too late when he finally gets to go home and he feels considerably worse for wear.

He’s relieved when he finds Enjolras isn’t home when he arrives at their apartment. There’s a second sight induced headache ripping through his temples and Enjolras would notice immediately and try to heal him at the expense of his own wellbeing. He always does, no matter how many times Combeferre forbids him to. Enjolras knows he shouldn’t, he just can’t help himself.

With a groan Combeferre lets himself collapse on the couch. He shouldn’t have pushed himself so hard. God his head hurts.

The ring of the telephone is a _very_ unwelcome attack on his senses and Combeferre scrambles to answer it to make it stop.

“Combeferre,” he groans and there’s a hum on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s Éponine,” the familiar voice follows. “Sounds like it’s not a good time though.”

Combeferre sits up. “Ponine, hey.”

“Hey,” she repeats and the fact that he can hear the smile in her voice is making Combeferre’s heart do something happy and skippy.

“It’s not a bad time,” he assures her. As far as he’s concerned there is no bad time to be talking to Éponine. “What did you call for?”

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice slightly softer for a moment. “Zette is out, it’s pretty dead here… I could come over with take-out?”

“That sounds amazing actually.”

“Great!” Éponine says, sounding pleased. “But don’t think I forgot you promised to cook for me.”

“And I will,” Combeferre smiles. “Just, please not tonight.” Just talking to Éponine makes him feel better, it always does, but his head is still killing him and he’s not sure there’s even anything good in stock. If he’s going to cook for Éponine, he wants to do it properly.

“No, no, tonight you’re off the hook,” she jokes. “Anything special you’re hungry for?”

Combeferre smiles at the ceiling. “Surprise me.”

“Bold choice,” Éponine says and he can hear her grinning. “Alright, I’ll be there soon then.”

“See you soon,” Combeferre agrees, nodding at nothing and he hangs up when the line goes dead. He looks round the room happily and then winces involuntarily. The headache isn’t letting up. He knows Éponine won’t mind if he’s a bit spaced out during her visit, but he minds. Painkillers won’t work against this though, there’s nothing he can do but wait it out.

At least waiting is more pleasant knowing that Éponine is on her way. By the time she arrives with a bag full of food and a grin on her face Combeferre has managed to repress the worst of the stinging behind his eyes. Of course Éponine notices anyway, giving him a concerned look after giving him her usual greeting hug. Well, usual, Combeferre isn’t sure he’ll ever be _used_ to it.

“You alright?” she asks and Combeferre gives her a cringing smile.

“Headache, that’s all,” he assures her.

She hums concernedly, but doesn’t press for details. “Food then?” she says, raising the bag. “I brought shockingly surprising burgers.”

“Very disappointing,” Combeferre laughs, taking the styrofoam container she hands him.

They eat in companionable silence. It’s one of the things Combeferre appreciates so much about Éponine. She knows how to not let silence be awkward.

She eats fast though and when she’s finished her burger she sits back to tell him about her day.

Combeferre likes to listen to her talk. He eats slowly, even slower than he usually does, and as Éponine glows softly with pride talking about Gavroche’s latest exploits, Combeferre wonders vaguely what he has done to earn the right to see Éponine like this. Comfortable, talking excitedly, sitting across from him in an old t-shirt and with her hair slightly messy. Éponine isn’t like this with people easily. Grantaire says it took him ages to earn the right to be shown the girl behind the jackets and the impressive eye liner. Combeferre is aware he’s an exception and he’s grateful for it. He’d just…he’d like to know what kind of an exception exactly.

“Was Valjean mad?” Combeferre asks, sparing a thought for the primary caregiver of a firestarter like Gavroche.

“He never gets mad,” Éponine shakes her head. “He was frazzled. And secretly kind of impressed.”

Combeferre laughs and Éponine grins into her glass as she takes a drink.

The take-out containers are still scattered around the table and Combeferre notices the jumbled letters of one of Éponine’s charms written on the nearest one. He cannot make out the word, but he’s guessing it’s a heating spell. Combeferre blinks, resisting the urge to look at the magic of them. He knows he’ll regret it if he uses his sight now, but Éponine’s magic is pleasant to look at, it’s steady and vibrant. Come to think of it, he’s always wondered…

“Ponine, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot,” she says, getting up to clear the table.

“Have you always written your charms like that?” He’s been curious about it from the start. He doesn’t know anyone that crafts spells like that. Of course Éponine has a special talent for written charms, she doesn’t need the symbols and incantations most people do. But even then, there is no reason for her to draw the letters on top of each other like she does.

Éponine looks at the imprint of her charm, written in purple pen. “They’re not as easy to spot this way,” she says. “Not as easy to read either.”

Combeferre is sorry he asked. It makes sense Éponine would hide her magic from her parents. It just hadn’t occurred to him it had been about that.

Éponine doesn’t seem to mind though. She looks up, dropping the container back onto the table and smiles vaguely at him. “I was bad at reading,” she says. “And at writing. Dear Mama wasn’t a very good teacher.”

She leaves the table to curl up on the couch and Combeferre follows, sitting at enough of a distance to leave her ample space to pull up her legs like she likes to do.

“I remember the first time I actually did it, read something, _wrote_ something.” Her smile widens and she looks at Combeferre with the glow of the memory alive on her face. “I felt like I cracked a code. Like every word was a secret I uncovered.“

Combeferre smiles back. The triumph in her voice has something glorious. “Magical,” he says.

“ _Magical_ ,” Éponine agreed. “The first time I wrote a charm into life it didn’t even surprise me. That’s what words were to me. It made sense it worked like that. I never second-guessed it.”

The thought of little Éponine learning her letters and finder her magic hidden behind them is making Combeferre do stupid things with his face. “Words are magical,” he says, trying to do something other than sit there with a dumb smile on his lips.

“Hm,” Éponine hums in agreement. She leans back against the couch cushions and gives him an enquiring look. “Do you still have a headache? You were squinting just now.”

Combeferre had forgotten about it for a moment, but yeah, he does. “Not easy to get rid of I’m afraid,” he grimaces. “It’s—” He pulls a face. “I overdid it today, my own stupid fault.”

“It’s because of your magic?” she asks, frowning slightly.

“Yeah, second sight is hard on the eyes sometimes,” he says. It shouldn’t be, his tutor has told him that a thousand times. He shouldn’t guide his sight as much as he does, should just let the sensations wash over him. Combeferre can’t stand that technique though, he wants more control than that.

“Well that sucks,” Éponine says discontentedly.

“It’s not too bad,” Combeferre assures her. “Not tonight at least.”

Éponine has a very specific expression that Combeferre has come to associate with the sentiment ‘that sounds like bullshit, but if you insist I’ll play along’. That’s the expression on her face right now and Combeferre lets out a tired laugh.

“Okay, yes, it sucks,” he says. “But it’s my own fault and it’ll be gone by morning.”

“ _Morning_ ,” Éponine huffs. “Fuck that.” She sits up on her knees on the couch, scooting closer towards him, and fishes a pen out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Can I try to help?”

Combeferre felt his heart stutter for a moment when she suddenly drew closer, but now he smiles uncertainly and says: “How?”

“I don’t know about magical headaches,” Éponine says, waving her pen. “But at least half of a normal headache is just tension around your face. I help Zelma with those all the time.”

“Ok?” Combeferre says. He’s not uncertain about Éponine’s abilities. Her magic isn’t particularly strong, but it’s very steady. It’s reliable and she knows what she’s doing. It’s just that she’s resting her hands on his shoulders now and her knees are nudging against his legs. It’s—

“Wait, I’ll use one that’s easier to wash off,” she says and she digs through her pockets. “Don’t want you attracting unwanted attention in class tomorrow,” she grins, uncapping a felt-tip and gently turning his head to the side so she can reach his right temple.

Her hands are very soft and Combeferre tries to think of something besides the feeling of Éponine drawing carefully on his skin. “They’ll just think it’s another tattoo,” he mutters.

“Mm,” Éponine hums amusedly, gently tilting his head to the right now and putting the pen to his neck. Her other hand is cupping the back of his neck from the other side and Combeferre can feel magic trickling down his spine underneath her fingers.

He tries not to, but he can’t resist looking up to see her expression. The casual concentration on her face as she writes is beautiful and Combeferre _knows_ she is lit up with magic right now. Éponine is always lit up with magic it seems to Combeferre. And he cannot look at her now. Not really, not properly.

The pen lifts off his skin and Éponine’s eyes meet his. “Is it working?” she asks.

“What?” he breathes, trying to sit still enough to not sway even closer to her. She’s so close.

“Is your headache getting better?” she asks, a flash of uncertainty on her face. “I could try a different word…”

Right, headaches, there wasn’t really room for that in his mind just now. He lets his eyes close and feels. Part of him breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s less,” he says. “Much less.”

He can feel Éponine pull away slightly and when he opens his eyes she is sitting back on her heels, still near, but less close. She looks down at the pen in her hand and for a moment it almost looks like she’s embarrassed of something. Then the familiar grin-like smile is back on her face and twirls the pen triumphantly between her fingers. “At your service.”

“Thank you,” Combeferre laughs and he runs a hand through his short hair. He really feels a lot better, and not just because Éponine is beaming at him.

“Anytime,” she says warmly. “ _But_ , get ready for my hidden motives to come to light, because I have some.”

“Oh?” Combeferre says, corners of his mouth quirking up. “And what heinous ulterior motives might those be?”

“Stargazing?” She’s asking, not demanding, and her expression is coaxing more than anything else. As if Combeferre would need coaxing.

“I am always up for stargazing,” he says. “I would have done that even with the headache.”

“I thought it might make it worse,” Éponine laughs, sliding off the couch.

“Who knows, who cares,” Combeferre waves his hand. He opens the cupboard and grabs the bulky plastic bag lying on the top shelf.

Éponine meanwhile has pushed Enjolras’ favourite chair out of the way to leave a big enough spot open on the living room carpet for both her and Combeferre to lie down side by side. Before she sits down on the floor she flicks off the lights, plunging the room into sudden dusk. She also takes off her shoes and Combeferre follows suit.

“Ready?” he grins.

“Always,” she says, stretching out on the floor.

Combeferre pulls the plastic aside and grabs hold of the blanket inside it. As soon as he touches it images begin to flash before his eyes. Carefully Combeferre shakes the blanket out, spreading it over the both of them as he lies down beside Éponine. This blanket is a present from Courfeyrac and it’s one of Combeferre’s most treasured possessions. He settles down comfortably on the ground and turns his gaze to the ceiling, hearing Éponine sigh admiringly beside him.

This city is too full of light pollution to be able to see the stars properly. Combeferre had missed stargazing terribly and Courfeyrac had known it. Which is why he made him this. A stargazing blanket. Courfeyrac’s magic is very strong, but he has a very hard time using it on physical objects. Influencing the intangible is more his forte. He is especially good at influencing and prompting memories. That is what this blanket does. He sewed the memory of starry skies into every single stitch and now just touching it calls up visions of the stars shining down at night. The blanket itself is rather ugly, because Courfeyrac is a lot better at magic than at sewing, but it’s soft and big and does _exactly_ what it’s supposed to do.

“I would sleep under this,” Éponine sighs adoringly and Combeferre smiles.

“I have,” he says. It made him dream of galaxies.

“It’s perfect,” she says. “Well, if we saw the same it would be perfect.”

Courfeyrac’s magic prompts a memory, it doesn’t create the images on its own. Combeferre’s memories are not Éponine’s, so it’s very unlikely they’re actually looking at the same sky right now.

It’s silent for a while, the ripples of magic in the air the only thing stirring between them. They’ve done this so many times now, but Combeferre hopes he’ll never come to think of it as anything other than special. Lying in the dark with Éponine breathing softly beside him. Both of them warm underneath the starry fabric, nearly touching but not quite.

“If…” Éponine begins slowly, but she doesn’t continue.

Combeferre turns his head and it’s strange and wonderful, because he can even see the stars in Éponine’s eyes. “What?” he mutters.

Éponine glances at him and the starlight reflected in her eyes fades. Now they’re big and dark and looking straight into his. “If we went stargazing together. For real… Would the blanket make us remember that? Would we see the same stars then?”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. Not even Courfeyrac understands exactly how his magic works. “We should do that though.” He’s glad he said it before his nerves could catch up with him, but he can feel the heat creep up from his neck.

“Go stargazing?” Éponine says softly, still looking at him.

“Yes, out in the country, somewhere with a wide sky.” He doesn’t look away because he doesn’t want to. Combeferre can feel the texture of the carpet underneath him, he can even see the dark contours of the living room furniture around them, he knows exactly where he is. But it still looks like there is faint starlight shining down on Éponine, like there’s proper darkness tangled in her hair and night’s sky stretched out above them both, as far as the eye can see. He can hear the wind, just at the edge of his hearing, almost feel it on his skin.

“Maybe if we bring the blanket…” Éponine murmurs. “Maybe it’ll remember for us.”

“Maybe,” Combeferre echoes, but can’t properly consider the possibility of it. He doesn’t know enough about memory magic for a start, but more importantly, his head is full of Éponine. She’s hasn’t moved, or Combeferre didn’t feel her move, but she’s lying closer now than she did before. Her face is almost too close now to distinguish properly, but he can see her eyes fixed on him and her lips parting just a little.

“Ferre?”

“Yeah?” His voice is so soft that it’s barely a word, barely a syllable.

Under the blanket Éponine’s hand brushes against his. Combeferre turns his palm up and Éponine entwines her fingers with his. She’s still looking at him.

“Is there a moon in your sky?” she asks, nearly whispering.

“No,” he breathes softly. His sky belongs to a summer night, the moon nowhere to be seen.

“Mine has,” Éponine says quietly and for a moment her eyes wander away from his. “You have moonlight clinging to your skin.”

Combeferre wants to answer something about starlight. But he doesn’t. Instead he moves forward, just a little, exactly as much as Éponine does herself, until their lips touch and his eyes close.

When he opens them again Éponine’s lashes are just fluttering upward and he can feel her hand squeezing his with the same sudden, glowing energy he feels coursing through his body. Éponine smiles at him, letting his heart skip a beat and making his expression mirror her own. The stars overhead are shifting positions, but Combeferre is barely aware of it.

“Can I do that again?” he asks, not quite able to keep his voice steady.

Éponine looks at him with her face lit up like the sky of memories. “I sure hope so,” she laughs and Combeferre laughs with her, right up until the moment they lean back into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's for Amanda it must have stars <3


	3. Dramatis Personae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most of the Amis don't actually feature in this story, but they are part of the universe, so I thought it'd be nice to introduce them.

**Combeferre** : Was born with second sight and can see magical energy around people and objects. He has very good control over it, but overdoing it still gives him a headache. He's getting proper tutoring for his gift, but instead of letting himself be recruited into government security, he’s studying engineering, wanting to integrate magic and technology.  
  


 **Enjolras** : Was born with healing magic and can detect physical damage in people, but refuses to take tutoring to become a healer, because he’s studying law and politics and wants to make a difference that way. As a result he never trained his healing and when he does heal people, he drains himself in the process.  
  


 **Courfeyrac** : Was born with an affinity for emotional magic and perfected a memory prompting technique that allows him to ingrain the recall of a particular type of memory to an object, so that when someone touches it, it feels like they are back in that moment again. Has a tutor that is running out of things to teach him and studies psychology.  
  


 **Jehan** : Was born with the talent to sense and manipulate life force. There are two ways you can go with that, healing and necromancy. Their family are adamant it shouldn’t be necromancy. Never received formal tutoring beyond the basic levels, because of how controversial their gift is. Works in a flower shop with strangely unwilting flowers.  
  


 **Grantaire** : Has no talent for a specific type of magic, but his power is directly linked to physical movement. He was absolutely rubbish at magic until his tutor struck on the idea of teaching him sign language. When he signs Grantaire can cast extremely well and he’s learned that dancing is the best way for him to draw up a lot of magic.  
  


 **Bossuet** : Was born with emotional extension and managed to learn emotional reading as well, meaning he can feel other people’s emotions and extend his own emotions outside of himself to influence those around him. The first costs him effort, the last he does accidentally a lot, which is why he feels it his duty to go through life looking on the bright side, so the feelings he’s scattering around are at least positive.  
  


 **Joly** : Was born with a rare talent to amplify another’s magic. It takes its toll on his body, but as long as he’s touching the source of the magic he can extend and amplify it by startling degrees. He uses amulets a lot as they are much more powerful for him and generate steady magic.  
  


 **Musichetta** : Was born with a specific transmuting magic that allows her to alter materials. The smaller the change the easier, but she’s especially good at fabrics. She works as a seamstress, changing her plain fabrics into fine ones (law dictates they all have a label to mark them as a magical fabrication). Her magic is generally very safe, but when she falls asleep on a rough surface it does tend to soften a bit.  
  


 **Feuilly** : Has an innate ability to binding magic to objects and studied hard to learn as much crafting magic as he could. Makes the extremely reliable amulets and enchanted objects. He prefers working with natural materials, as they conduct the magic best.  
  


 **Bahorel** : Wasn’t born with any specific talent, but has such a passion for food that he learned to mix food and magic like the best of them. He specializes in putting emotions into food and drink. Is still torn between going to culinary school and just trying to start his own restaurant or café.  
  


 **Marius** : Was born with the talent and instinct to weave protections. They hang around him at all times, keeping him safe and when he’s anxious or affectionate towards someone they spread. Most of the people Marius cares about have protections clinging to them, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Because his magic is so strong he has grown oddly indifferent towards his own safety.  
  


 **Cosette** : Intuitively good at spells that have to do with nature. Studies biology and receives very broad tutoring. In the places where Cosette lives dandelions seem to be breaking through the cracks in the concrete much faster than they should and moss grows on even the most barren roofs.  
  


 **Éponine** : Developed a great talent for written charms. Her magic is noteworthy because of how simple it is. She can get as much power out of plain French written in block letters as most casters struggle to summon with an entire incantation. Considering her childhood she has developed a considerable talent for protection charms.  
  


 **Gavroche** : He’s a firestarter, plain and simple. Considering his age he has rather good control over his gift, but he is less than scrupulous about when he decides to use it.


End file.
